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Actual Books

Who Hates Whom
Who Hates Whom:

Well-Armed Fanatics,
Intractable Conflicts,

and Various Things Blowing Up
A Woefully Incomplete Guide™

“Revelatory... Harris's sly wit and infectious curiosity make understanding world chaos fascinating... witty, horrific, and necessary.”

-- Boston Globe


"Brave... irreverent... charges into the thick of the globe's myriad simmering wars... hilariously relaxed."

-- New York Observer


“Fascinating, enlightening, and surprisingly: NOT TOTALLY DEPRESSING.”

-- John Hodgman,
author, The Areas of My Expertise and correspondent for The Daily Show

 


"A rollicking ride of intellectual discovery and emotional growth... his comic timing never fails"
-- The Wall Street Journal

"A surprisingly touching memoir"
-- Entertainment Weekly

"Effortlessly funny and informative... tender, human, and very wise... A must for anyone who loves Jeopardy!, or has ever seen it, or is breathing."
-- Joss Whedon, creator, Buffy the Vampire Slayer


You Tube Clips


CBS Morning Show profile



Who Hates Whom




Prisoner of Trebekistan


Panic



Aftermath



Reading



Helping my friend Howard win $250,000 on Millionaire

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What "1 vs. 100" looks like in France Print
Travel
I'm still way, way behind in posting the fun pics from the trip. Came across this one night while flipping channels in Guadeloupe:

As you can see, it's not the mob, it's le mur, "the wall."

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The very first question I saw was in -- what else? -- French literature:

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For those who want to play along: what literary genre made Racine famous?

While you're mulling that, if you take a good look, you'll notice that a bunch of the folks in le mur are in costume. (I don't know if they do this in the American version; I've only seen it for a few seconds.)

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In the fourth and fifth rows up on the right are ten people dressed as French chefs, complete with white toques and egg-beating whisks to wave in the air. How odd.

If you look closely at upper left, there's also one guy dressed up as what seems to be a French stereotype of a cornpone American. (Or maybe he's just some French dude who genuinely likes wearing yoked shirts and cowboy hats. I have no idea.)

Anyhow, of the entire mob, only one guy didn't know that Racine wrote tragedies.  Holy crap.

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And it was the cowboy. Bien sûr.

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The toque-wearing cuisine-eaters then started banging their whisks proudly on the desk.

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Y'know what I enjoy most about France?

It is so goddammed French, that's what.